


"I'm Buying Us A Wendy House"

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: Take my hand--Take My Whole life too [12]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Drinking, Drunk Ian, Fluff, Future Fic, Husbands, M/M, Mickey looks after a very Drunk Ian, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Drink this.” He orders, making sure Ian gets a good grip around the glass. The redhead enthusiastically takes the water, juggling it down as quick as he took it from Mickey. “Calm down, commando. It ain't fucking Vodka.” </p><p>Ian spits out the water into the sink, Mickey thinks he's puking until Ian starts shouting. “Let's do body shots!”</p><p>Ian gets very, very drunk and Mickey looks after him, making sure he gets to bed. (Based on a prompt - written in the notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I'm Buying Us A Wendy House"

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt I saw : Your OTP is married. One night Person A is undressing and tucking in a drunk Person B. About halfway through the undressing, Person B starts yelling and roughly shoving off Person A screaming, “Get off me you bastard, I’m in love with my wife/husband!”.

Happily married for seven years, Mickey had never got used to a drunk Ian Gallagher. Alcohol had a fuzzy affect on him, he would sit there swaying, smiling like an idiot – Ian, however, would jump around like a five year old, more giddy than Yevgeny, he would sing lame rhymes, pecking Mickey's head until his hangover kicked in. Tonight of all nights, their anniversary, they decided to get ratarsed in the alibi. They got a taxi back to their small apartment on the other side of Chicago, and Ian was already singing through the front door as Mickey struggled to find key.

 

“Keep your fucking voice down, you wanna wake up the old hag down in 4B?” Mickey grunted, dropping his keys and then huffing as he picked them up. Ian smacks his ass and then turns to touch the wallpaper in the hallway.

 

“Doris?” He gasps out, hand against his chest dramatically. “How dare you call her a hag, she's a lovely lady!” he slurred through his shout, his anger slowly sliding into a smirk.

 

Rolling his eyes, Mickey finally fumbles to get the key into the door. “Come on, loud mouth.” He pulls on Ian's coat, but the redhead doesn't budge. Mickey already knows what Ian's thinking, he could see it in his eyes. “Don't even think about it. Doris would flip a bucket if you knock on her door at this time.”

 

“ _Buttt..._ Doris.” Ian whispers, his head falling back with a sad look against his face. Mickey rolled his eyes, again, and pulled him through into the living room so he could close the door. 

 

“You can go check up on your grandma in the morning, tough guy.” He shrugs off his coat and whips a glass from the counter. Ian giggles with joy, following Mickey to the kitchen, expecting another glass of god-knows what. Mickey turns, a glass in his hand filled with water. 

 

“Drink this.” He orders, making sure Ian gets a good grip around the glass. The redhead enthusiastically takes the glass, juggling it down as quick as he took it from Mickey. “Calm down, commando. It ain't fucking Vodka.” 

 

Ian spits out the water into the sink, Mickey thinks he's puking until Ian starts speaking. “Let's do body shots!” he darts his head up and starts frantically searching through the cupboards, falling about and hitting into open doors of the cabinets. 

 

Jesus, the kid never grew up. Not that Mickey wanted him to. “Gallagher, get the fuck down.” He pulls at Ian's shirt and pushes him towards the bedroom. “Your going to bed,  _ Now.”  _ Ian pouts, too drunk to protest and let Mickey guide him towards the open bedroom door. 

 

“Wait here.” Mickey leans Ian against the door, he needed to undress him first, and he needed to make sure Ian didn't puke in his sleep. He walks over to the door and hears Ian laughing to himself, he locks up and walks back over – kicking off his shoes and clicking his neck. “You ready tough- what the fuck you doing?” 

 

“I-I'm getting.” Ian hiccups, his head falling a little towards the bright light of the screen of his phone. “I'm buying us a Wendy house.” He slurs, if Mickey hadn't witnessed this for years on end he wouldn't of understood the younger boy. But he had gotten used to this, now he could just enjoy how cute Ian was. 

 

“What the fuck do you want a Wendy house for?” Mickey asks, taking Ian's phone and chucking it towards the couch. The redhead tries to run for it, but Mickey catches him in his arms before the kid has chance to trip. 

 

“We could _live_ in there Mickey. We could bake cakes.” Ian's eyes widen, just like a little kid in a chocolate factory. Mickey is sure Ian is charlie at this moment, Ian in the drunk-off-his-ass factory. 

 

Taking Ian by the waist, he pulls the redhead into the bedroom. “We already have a house you idiot, and we have a bed. Which you're getting into,  _ now.”  _ With little force he pushes Ian to the bed, making his husband fall flat on his back against the sheets. 

 

Ian winks at him – well tries – and exaggerates the flapping of his hands against the bed. “One...two..Freddies coming for  _ you.  _ Three... six..- 

 

“Six doesn't come after three, asshole.” Mickey laughs, pulling off Ian's shoes and chucking them into the pile in the corner of the room. He does this everytime Ian gets drunk, and he doesn't mind doing it at all. 

 

Ian leans up clumsily, he licks his lips with soft eyes. “Yes it  _ does,  _ Mick.” He sounds like he's just cracked the code to the worlds safe. “Three … six.. wheatabix!” He falls back against the bed again, giggling to himself. 

 

Mickey tries to hide his smile, God Ian was such a dork. He leans over and grabs onto Ian's coat, only to be shoved off forcefully. For a moment he swore Ian had become immediately sober, but he can tell by his hitched breath that he was still out of it. He tries again but Ian is persistent that he doesn't touch him.

 

“Get off me, get the fuck off me!” Ian screams, kicking his legs and punching his arms out protectively. 

 

Mickey feels hurt, but he guesses Ian is just fucking with him. “Ian, stop fucking around – let me-” he pulls at the jacket again, but Ian shoots a kick into his leg causing him to nearly topple over. “Jesus, fucking christ.” 

 

“Don't touch me, get off.” Ian calls out again, closing his eyes and reaching out for something. “Get off me you basturd, I'm in love with my husband!” Mickey doesn't try this time, because he can't stop fucking smiling. 

 

Ian was such an idiot, and he was an even bigger idiot when he was drunk. Mickey wants to say something like  _ I'm your fucking husband and by legal contract you have to go to bed.  _ But Ian won't shut up babbling. “You need to leave, I love Mickey. I love  _ him.  _ Please go away.” He's whispering now and Mickey is finding it hard not to laugh. 

 

Mickey felt he should play along, see where it led too. “Oh really, what's he like?” 

Ian pauses for a moment. “He's pretty fucking badass.” 

 

“Is that so?”

 

Ian nods enthusiastically. “Hell yeh, He finds you in here he will kick your ass. Just you wait.” Ian's tapping his fingers against his chest, looking up to Mickey and not yet clicking on that it was  _ him  _ infront of him. 

 

“Better not upset him then, right?” Mickey grins, bouncing on the spot. Ian nods his head. “What's he look like.. I mean, in case I bump into him.” Mickey keeps playing just to see what shit Ian comes up with. 

 

“Oh.” Ian sits up on his elbows again. “He's got the worlds perfect ass, like woooosh.” He puffs his hands in the air. “Jet-black hair that I love running my hands through, don't even get me started on his lips. I want to kiss them all day long, sometimes I can't help myself when he eats a sausage thingy.” Ian tries to form the words, his voice getting a little more tired. 

 

“A hotdog?” Mickey supplies. 

 

Ian clicks his fingers for confirmation. “ _ God.  _ You just read my mind. Who are you, are you that dude from X men? But, but you have  _ hair.”  _ Ian gasps and falls flat onto his back. Then Ian is off topic, singing again. “One... two..- 

 

Mickey bends forward, slipping himself inbetween Ian's legs. “Gallagher.” He whispers, stroking a hand through Ian's hair. It all happened in a spilt second, Ian's body flickered up with excitement his eyes widening. 

 

“Mickey!” He laughs, sloppily kissing the side of Mickey's face. “I was just telling someone about you.”

 

“Oh, yeh. Who?” Mickey grins, helping Ian out of his coat slowly. He was still touched about the previous events, Ian was always so protective over their marriage Mickey just didn't know how much. 

 

Ian brings Mickey's face to his. “That's bald guy, y'know from X Men?” His mouth splits into a grin, biting his lip. 

 

“I know him, I just seen him wheeling out of the room.” Mickey lied, unbulking Ian's pants so he could pull the jeans off him. No way was Ian sleeping in jeans, not after last time that they did that. 

 

“You did?” Ian gasps again, hand over his heart. “ _Wow.”_

 

Fucking dork. Mickey successfully pulls off the redheads pants, as well as his. Pulling back the covers, he helps Ian over to his side (yes, in the seven years of marriage they finally agreed on sides), he grabs the quilt and chucks it over Ian's body. “You okay there, tough guy?” Ian's mumbling to himself, smiling up at the ceiling. 

 

Ian turns his head, sleepily, watching as Mickey climbs in next to him. “Oh nothing.” He giggles into the bunched up sheet at his face. Mickey pulls him closer ,resting the redhead against his chest. Ian mumbles against his chest, eyes drooping. “I've got the best husband ever.” 

 

Mickey kisses the top of his head, one hand stroking across Ian's back. He smiles a genuine smile – knowing that Ian was too drunk to see, or feel it. “Don't I fucking know it.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts at my tumblr: im-an-angel-y0u-ass.tumblr.com


End file.
